What Year of Yes Made Me Realize About All the Times I Said No

After writing about expanding your life, I kept thinking about a book that hit me harder than I expected.

Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes isn’t about recklessly saying yes to everything.

It’s about noticing how often you’ve been saying no.

And why.

Reading it forced me to look at my own no’s.

Not the obvious ones.

The comfortable ones.

The ones that sound reasonable.

The ones that quietly keep your life small.

Avoidance Doesn’t Feel Dramatic

It feels practical.

After another long relationship ended, I was single again.

Again.

I was living with two incredible best friends.
My house was full.
My calendar was full.
My life felt safe.

I didn’t need to date.

I was comfortable.

That’s the key word.

Comfortable.

I could have stayed exactly where I was.

And no one would have blamed me.

But I also knew something uncomfortable:

If I didn’t expand my social world again, my life would never expand.

It would stay right there.

Contained.

Saying Yes Didn’t Feel Empowering

It felt awkward.

I got on Bumble.

It was awful.

Bad small talk.
Strange energy.
Dates I absolutely did not need to be on.

Every part of me wanted to retreat back to my safe, warm house with my best friends.

That would have been easy.

That would have been avoidance.

It would have sounded logical.

“I’m fine.”
“I don’t need this.”
“It’s not worth the effort.”

But it was.

Not because every date was magical.

Because expansion requires participation.

Avoidance Shrinks Your World Quietly

Avoidance doesn’t scream.

It whispers.

“You’re good.”
“You’re busy.”
“You’re content.”

And maybe you are.

But content and expanded are not the same thing.

If I had stopped after the first terrible date, my world would have stayed the same size.

Safe. Predictable. Limited.

Instead, I kept saying yes.

Not to every man.

To the process.

To being slightly uncomfortable.

To widening my circle even when I didn’t feel like it.

And eventually, I met a man I would have never crossed paths with if I had stayed home.

Not because fate intervened.

Because I participated.

The Question I Ask Now

That book helped me see the pattern.

My no’s weren’t always wise.

Some of them were just avoidance dressed up as maturity.

Now when I hesitate, I ask myself:

Is this a wise no?

Or an avoidance no?

That question has expanded my life more than any single opportunity.

Because the wall isn’t dramatic.

It’s convenient.

And your life only gets bigger if you step through it.

BRB